


Quiet Time

by naasad



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Flashbacks, Hebrew and Yiddish, Humor, Jewish Churchfam, Kissing, Languages, Light Angst, M/M, Mentioned AI Program Epsilon | Leonard Church, Sarge's Anti-Grif Agenda, Triggers, carwash siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 00:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18201026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: "We are not scarring Grif."ORSarge talks to Carolina.





	Quiet Time

Wash idly kicked his feet in the air as he read his book, feeling the bed move as Sarge shifted away from him. He smiled at the pages, mind anywhere but.

This was nice. Living with Caboose and Tucker and Kai 24/7, sometimes you just needed quiet and someone to say that Blue Team sucks. He closed his eyes and stretched, arms in front and feet behind, as far as they would go.

Sarge put his hand on the strip of bare skin where his shirt had ridden up and absentmindedly stroked it with his thumb. After a moment, he grunted and crawled up the mattress to press his nose behind Wash’s ear and kiss the side of his neck once, twice, again.

Well, now he really wasn’t thinking about his book.

 _“Ani ohev otcha,”_ Sarge murmured.

Wash froze.

_Ani ohev otach._

She laughed.

Did I say it right?

_Ani ohev otach._

She moaned.

_Ani ohev otach._

Welcome to the world, _ahuvi_. Today is your birthday.

_Ani ohev otach._

_Ani ohev otach._

Leonard.

_Ani ohev otach._

Leonard, why didn’t you save me?

“David.”

Wash threw his book across the room, ignoring the shatter it made as he ground his palms into his eyes.

“Washington.” Sarge played. with the hair at the nape of his neck, covering his implants from nonexistent prying eyes that were boring into his skull. “Did I say it wrong?”

Wash laughed bitterly. “No.” He shook his head. “No. I just – I haven’t spoken Hebrew since Epsilon.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Never fails to push me into memories that aren’t my own,” he muttered. He rolled over to look up at his lover.

Sarge frowned, thumb stroking his navel now.

Wash sighed and closed his eyes. “I love you, too.”

Sarge smiled softly and leaned down for a long kiss.

Wash smiled back and brought a hand up to the back of his neck to keep him there as long as possible.

“What about Yiddish?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t really speak it. I'm pretty sure Dad only learned Hebrew when he converted and if Mom knew any, I don’t think she ever spoke it around us, so it was just whatever we heard around the shul the few times we went.”

Sarge nodded and pulled back a moment, cupping David’s face in one hand.

Wash pressed a kiss to his palm.

“Ikh hab dikh lib.”

Wash tensed in anticipation of a flashback, then relaxed when none came. “Say it again?”

Sarge beamed. “Ikh hab dikh lib.”

“Ikh hab dikh lib,” Wash echoed, staring adoringly at his partner. “So… you learned two new languages for me?”

“Still learning.” Sarge shrugged. “All your sister told me is that you two are Jewish. Thought I’d hedge my bets.”

“Maybe we can learn it together.”

“Hm.” Sarge shifted uncomfortably. “How do you get memories that aren’t yours?”

Wash frowned and shook his head. “Epsilon. Didn’t I tell you?”

“Maybe. Don’t remember.”

Wash sat up and rolled over, maneuvering until Sarge was laying on his back and his head was on his chest.

“Sneaky cuddler,” Sarge teased, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Wash snorted. “You love it.” He sighed. “Epsilon is the memory fragment, based on the Alpha, based on the Director, who was my dad. When Epsilon was implanted in me and tried to kill himself in my head, he shed all the memories he had – his own, Alpha’s, and Dad’s. Which means I have them all now and various things can throw me into flashbacks that aren’t even mine. It’s….” He sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Traumatic,” Sarge finished when he didn’t. “You have your dad’s memories?”

Wash nodded. “Suffice to say I know more about my parents’ relationship than any child ever wants to.”

Sarge rumbled with laughter, but rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “Well, that’s a whole different kind of traumatic. We’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen to our kids.”

Wash blinked in confusion. “Our… kids?”

Sarge nodded to the door.

Slowly but surely, as Wash focused, the sounds of the other Sim troopers filtered into the room. He smiled fondly. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“Except for maybe Grif,” Sarge said, eyes twinkling.

“I do not want Grif to see us having sex.”

“But he’ll be scarred for life!”

“Tre.”

Sarge’s mouth clamped shut at the nickname.

Wash shook his head and propped himself up on his elbow, leaning down to give him a kiss. “We’re not scarring Grif. Not even as a joke.”

Sarge sighed. “Fine,” he muttered, rolling over Wash and trapping him underneath him. “Ruin all my fun,” he muttered, trying to kiss every freckle.

Wash giggled and rolled them both over again – over and off the edge of the bed, dragging the blankets and the nightstand down with them.

“Ow,” Sarge said.


End file.
